


Smoking in Bed

by foryouandbits



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foryouandbits/pseuds/foryouandbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short ficlet based on art of a naked Sherlock smoking in bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoking in Bed

John returned to the room, a damp flannel in hand, to find Sherlock lying atop the bed, facing away, a lit cigarette in his mouth. At some point over the course of their interlude all of the sheets had been kicked to the floor and he lay just upon the brown bed, his left hand propping up his head, his right foot crossed over his left calf. John could just make out the smoke in the air as he exhaled and brought the cigarette back to his lips, the only light entering the room through the window from the streetlamp below. The golden light poured over his naked body and John’s eyes carefully traced every inch of him from his toes to the curve of his hip to the lustrous, debauched curls upon his head. He looked absolutely perfect in this light – the swell of his arse, the strength in his shoulders, the muscle in his arms – so perfect that John was willing to forgive his indoor smoking.

The best part of it all, not just the sight of him (although it was a lovely sight), was that John was witness to this. Sherlock did not face John but he was there, he was in his bed, he was alive and present and right in front of John, naked and resting in post-coital silence as his thoughts returned to him. So much had happened over the past few years. John did not want to think on them, but not wanting to think on them of course brought them directly to the forefront of his mind. Sherlock had forgiven him Mary, and John had forgiven Sherlock the Fall.

The core of John’s stomach tightened as he remembered the pain from the Fall. He took in a deep breath and placed a hand on his bare chest as he reminded himself _Sherlock is here. It’s okay. He is right there in front of you, alive, breathing, smoking. Right there. It’s okay._

Sherlock recognized the breath. He always did. He turned onto his back and faced John, the cigarette in between his first two fingers. John was still panicking, repeating the lines over and over again: _It’s okay. He’s right there. He’s looking at you. He’s right there. It’s okay._ Sherlock exhaled his smoke into the air before he extinguished his cigarette and beckoned John close.

John dropped the flannel onto the nightstand and crawled into Sherlock’s arms, the smell of tobacco smoke strong against Sherlock’s skin. Sherlock wrapped his arm tightly around John’s waist, their bodies touching from chest to toe.

“I’m here,” Sherlock whispered. John shut his eyes and buried his face in Sherlock’s neck, the ends of Sherlock’s curls brushing against John’s forehead. “Breathe slowly and deeply. I’m here. This is what is real.” John breathed again and again, and as time went on his heartbeat calmed, his senses returned, and the smoke dissipated. “Back with me?”

John removed his face from Sherlock’s neck.

“Who said you could smoke in bed?” Sherlock smiled a true smile, the kind he reserved just for John.

“I meant is as a compliment. Isn’t that what people do? Smoke after amazing sex?”

“Not in my bed,” said John.

“Not in our bed, you mean.”

John rested his forehead against Sherlock’s.

“Not in our bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out the art here:
> 
> http://threadear.tumblr.com/post/98790710603/2nd-variation-on-a-theme-click-image-for-full


End file.
